


Red Flag

by SapphoIsBurning



Series: Prompts from 11-9-16 [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Caning, Dom Cesaro, M/M, Silence Kink, Sub Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: Dean and Cesaro have an arrangement.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Totalshieldtrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totalshieldtrash/gifts).



> Cesabrose BDSM, as requested.

Cesaro led Dean down the stairs. Dean was half hard already in anticipation. He had whined impatiently as Cesaro had buckled him into the high posture collar and attached the lead to the big steel ring in the front. That earned him a withering look from his dom, which suitably chastized him. He would be patient. Cesaro would like that.

A dom like Cesaro rarely ever had to actually punish their sub. Dean  _ wanted  _ to be good for him. He liked the rewards he got. The look of sharp disapproval or a few cutting words roiled Dean’s stomach. He wanted instead the approval that spread through him by the same paths that a good hard scene warmed and prickled his flesh.

The smoothness of Cesaro’s suit brushed against Dean’s naked skin. It felt delicious, but it was fleeting. They reached the bottom of the stairs, went through the side doorway, into the playroom. Why were they always downstairs? It’s not like there was anyone else home to disturb with the noise. Dean thought about asking Cesaro to play in the living room sometime. Maybe put the X-Files on in the background. Would he go for that? It was always okay to ask for things, Dean remembered, even if the answer was no.

Cesaro put a hand on Dean’s back and guided him to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner.

“Face the wall, please,” Cesaro said. Dean knew the drill and his dick throbbed. It probably wouldn’t get much attention tonight. That was fine. Cesaro wasn’t actually  _ that  _ into his dick, weirdly, and Dean was still trying to wrap his head around that, but they made it work. Dean was learning he had more to offer than that.

“My sweet boy. I would like very much to put stripes on you, and for you to be completely silent.” He worked the buckles on the straps as he spoke, attaching Dean to the apparatus by the wrists and ankles. “If you can do that I shall give you a very special gift. Would you like that? You may speak.”

“Fuckin fantastic,” Dean said sincerely. “Do your worst. Or your best. Which one--”

“Silence, now,” Cesaro said, and Dean shut his mouth. He placed a red handkerchief into Dean’s hand. “I am sure you remember that you can drop the cloth at any time to signal that we must stop.”

Dean gulped and nodded as he grasped the cloth in his fist. They had tried tapping out once, but it felt too much like work.

Cesaro sighed thoughtfully as he went to his rack of toys and floggers. He smiled a little as he picked up a few things. “This will do very nicely,” he said. He always said that. Dean had tried to figure out how to guess what was coming from the tone of Cesaro’s satisfied huffs and sighs, his comments, the sound of the tools coming off the rack, but he never could. All the better for the surprise, he thought, as he clenched his abdomen and inhaled a quiet breath.

There was a faint whistle through the air and something hit Dean’s ass with a dry, rattling smack. He didn’t make a noise. He dropped his head forward, brushing his forehead against the drywall this was screwed into. There was another smack lower down on his legs. Each smack sent a hot buzzing through his body, a tingling that went from his toes to the top of his head that he didn’t have to banish or ignore. He liked this. He always had. He felt sweet relief to be able to let arousal flood him without shame. Cesaro got off on giving beatdowns; Dean got off on getting them. Convenient, really.

“You should recognize this instrument, Dean, it is one of your oldest friends,” Cesaro murmurred.

Yep, kendo stick, Dean thought, but he popped his head up straight and still made no sound.

“This is quite beautiful,” Cesaro said. “I always wish you could see it. Perhaps I should buy a mirror, eh?” He poked Dean in the ribs, testing for a laugh. Dean chuffed out a silent breath, clenching his fist around the red handkerchief.

“Good boy,” Cesaro purred. He dropped the kendo stick to the floor with a clatter. “Ready now.”

Dean breathed in and something stinging like fire smacked the backs of his thighs at an angle. He tried to shake his head but the collar held him still. He gasped, but he did not cry out. Cesaro struck again and again and the throb turned into pure sensation, an electric grid being raised on his skin, his ass, his legs. 

Finally Cesaro stopped. Dean could hear him breathing heavily. He imagined what he looked like: breaking a faint sheen of sweat but his suit, immaculate. 

“Beautiful,” Cesaro said. He stepped close to Dean, caressing his arms, breathing hotly against his neck. “You’re such a beautiful boy. Dean.” His voice grew thick with something like tenderness. “I think I love--”

But it was then that Dean dropped the red handkerchief. Some things were just too much.


End file.
